


The Untrue Story

by Hyaroo



Category: Peter Pan - J. M. Barrie
Genre: Gen, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-04-12
Packaged: 2018-03-22 14:04:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3731581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hyaroo/pseuds/Hyaroo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All stories, except one, are true. Can you guess which one story this is?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Untrue Story

_This story is one of those stories that doesn't quite know what continuity it's meant to be in. Mostly this is thanks to Peter Pan, who over the years have appeared in so many stories in all possible kinds of media, and been portrayed in so many ways, that it can be hard for a struggling writer such as myself to tell which version of Pan that has decided to grace their particular story with his presence._

_So in the end, all I can do is to shrug my shoulders, go with it and hope that neither Peter Pan nor J. M. Barrie find the story too insulting, and hope that you, dear reader, will find at least some enjoyment in it._

 

* * *

 

All stories, except one, are true.

However, as many people are disappointed to find out, this does not mean that all stories are  _accurate_.

Stories are nothing if not adaptable; they'll find their way into every society, every home and heart, in the process going through several changes in order to suit the tastes of both teller and audience. This is why so many stories, though they claim to be brand new and shiny, feel so familiar - they're not really new stories at all, just the same old classics with new clothes and a different haircut, and though they seem wildly different on the surface, you need only spend a short time with them before you realize that they're really the same.

The story of Peter Pan is one such story. If you know that story (and of course you do; why else would you even be here to read this?), and have followed different tellings of it, you'll no doubt have noticed that the details tend to vary rather a lot. And while there are many people who latch onto certain tellings and refuse to acknowledge others at all, this doesn't stop the story from finding new forms, and new chapters, many of which take a drastically different turn from what has come before.

This, you see, is the nature of the Neverland. Just like there is always a new fairy for every new baby that laughs for the first time, there is always a new Neverland for every child eager to explore it for the first time. People say that children nowadays are too cynical and world-weary to ever truly discover their Neverland, to ever believe in fairies, but what such people fail to take into account is that all children believe in  _something_ , and the Neverland is flexible enough to exploit this. And so, new children may very well set out to Neverland and find ninjas, superheroes or dinosaurs waiting for them. It all depends on the child.

Because the island is always _there_. It lurks, maybe in the Southern sea, maybe in another dimension, maybe on the very edge of the thin border between reality and make-believe; always the same but always different, always ready to welcome new children.

Here lives Peter Pan, and of course his band of Lost Boys, sometimes also known as the League of Pan; children who for some reason or other have been lost and separated from their parents, and have taken up permanent residence in Neverland. (Contrary to popular belief, not all of them are boys — over the years several girls have joined the crew as well. But Peter tends to still call them "the boys," and nobody contradicts him.)

Here they have their merry and dangerous adventures, and here they experience hundreds of stories new and old. Some of which, when remembered and retold, may not be very accurate, but all of which are to some extent true. Though it may be hidden underneath mountains of metaphors, even the wildest, most nonsensical stories have at least a grain of truth to them.

Except one.

There is _one_ story that can never be true, in any way, no matter how much we might wish otherwise. And this, above all, else is what makes that particular story so tragic. Like all the other stories, it has been told in many ways and taken on countless different appearances, and told in the right way it can even be quite convincing. But don't be fooled; it's all clever lies and subtle manipulations.

Can you guess what this one story is?

Maybe it'll be easier to guess if we take a look at a situation where the story comes into play.

So imagine, if you will, a city. It doesn't matter much which one — Peter Pan visits them all sooner or later. He can fly around the world faster than anything, and every city is in and of itself a dangerous adventure which has to at least be visited once or twice to see how dangerous it really is.

Night has fallen, and though no large city ever truly sleeps, this one seems to have decided to take a short nap. Just to rest a bit after a hectic day, you know, but like all cities it's a light sleeper and is ready to wake up on a moment's notice if anything were to happen.

And above the city the figure flies, surrounded by the stars and playing tag with the clouds. It's not a bird, or a plane, or even Superman, but a boy clad in what is probably skeleton leaves, weaved together to make a sort of tunic.

You've already guessed it: yes, of course it's Peter Pan. The Boy who Never Grew Up (or the One-And-Only Child, if you like), just as quick, light and eternally cheerful as you've always imagined him.

One of the smallest clouds, which has grown tired of the game of tag and is now just lazily drifting on the wind with no thoughts or concerns, briefly serves as a landing spot. Peter Pan steps lightly on the fluffy, misty surface and stands upright, almost majestically, looking down at the city below him like a monarch surveying his kingdom.

After a moment or two, he is joined by a tiny, dancing light - no bigger than a fist - which dances around him, circles around him a few times, and then comes to rest directly over his head, making it almost look like the "monarch" is wearing a glowing crown or maybe a halo.

The glowing light is, I'm sad to say, not Tinker Bell. Unlike Peter Pan, fairies are not eternal, and can't be expected to be around forever, and so Tinker Bell is no longer with him.

(Then again, it would seem a little depressing to imagine that Tink was dead and gone forever, so maybe she isn't. Maybe she went off to get married to a male fairy named Fireflyer, and has now started a lucrative and profitable business selling dreams to pirates. Or maybe she went off to become a movie star and beloved mascot for a world-famous entertainment company and still stars in the occasional direct-to-DVD movie. I think I like either of those versions better.)

But though Tink isn't here, it's impossible to imagine Peter Pan without a fairy companion. So there the tiny creature is. It glows with a distinctive blue light — and since it's common knowledge that female fairies are generally white and male fairies mauve, it logically follows that this particular fairy must be one of the silly fairies who can't make up their minds what gender they are. Just to make it a little less confusing, and to keep this fairy distinct from Tinker Bell, let's agree (at least for now) to call it a  _he_.

His name is Silverwing, and he is fairly new in his role as Peter's companion. This is, in fact, his first real trip away from Neverland, and he's having the time of his life. He darts about with excited squeaks and exclamations that to you and me would sound like chiming bells, but to Peter and anyone else who know the language of the fairies is perfectly understandable as:  _"Oh! Look at that! What are those? How fast can those things go? Is that thing made of chocolate?"_

Peter ignores the questions, partly because he doesn't know all the answers and partly because he has something else in mind. After a few more moments of gazing about, he spots his destination and immediately leaps off the cloud and dives downwards, followed by the eager blue light of his fairy companion.

Downwards, downwards they go, and it now becomes clear that their goal towards one of the larger apartment buildings. They fly along the building, past rows and rows of windows, more windows than either of them can count. Some of the windows shine with a warm, inviting light, others are dark and mysterious, but all of them are gateways to miniature kingdoms called _apartments_ , each one filled with its own people, its own rules and its own secrets, joys, sorrows and adventures. Peter ignores them all; they're not  _his_ kingdoms and he wants nothing to do with them. (After all,  _grown-ups_  live in these kingdoms, and Peter knows better than to trust a grown-up.) His destination is one window in particular.

This window is slightly open, and the room inside is between light and dark, a room illuminated only by flickering, unsteady lights. As Peter and Silverwing fly closer, they hear the sounds of grandiose, if muted, music. If this had been back in Wendy Darling's day, Peter might have suspected fairies and magic, or a very peculiar type of nightlight - but a lot of time has passed since then, and he now knows that such lights and sounds mean that someone in the room is watching television.

Peter turns to the enthusiastic Silverwing and gives him an excited nod; they've reached their goal. Carefully and soundlessly, he lands on the windowsill and settles down, allowing the fairy to perch on his shoulder. They stay there, hidden from view, but have themselves an excellent view of the television screen.

Where, to Peter's joy, images of what looks to be a movie about pirates is playing. Peter likes pirate movies, because he believes there's always a chance that  _he_ might be in them, and stories about himself have always been Peter's favorites.

To some of those who know Peter Pan, it might come as a bit of a surprise to find out that he, whose life is filled with adventures, should like television or movies so much. But Peter has always loved stories, and for years and years now he has regularly flown to the mainland in order to learn more of them. Where windows are open and mothers read good-night stories to their children, or where siblings tell each other ghost stories in the dark, Peter hides outside to listen to them, so that he can return home to the Neverland and tell the stories on to the Lost Boys.

(Quite often he forgets details or misses beginnings or endings, and so the stories grow and change in his head until they're quite different from how they were when he first heard them.)

And television, once you get used to it and learn when to avoid the boring grown-up programs, is a marvelous storyteller, so it's really no wonder that Peter, in addition to listening in on stories, has also taken to watching along when someone sees a movie or a cartoon he might enjoy.

There are no televisions in the Neverland, but occasionally, Peter and the Lost Boys like to pretend that they have one. Then, they might sit for hours, just like Peter has seen children on the mainland do, and watch imaginary cartoons and movies — most of which, of course, are about Peter Pan himself — and no nine o' clock news to spoil the fun.

Still, sometimes the desire for stories not of his own making grips Peter, and so he once again leaves Neverland in order to find someone with a story that might be to his liking. Sometimes, when he finds children whose taste in stories mirror his own, he'll return to the same place again and again, and for the most part they never even know he's there.

The child who at this moment is watching the movie that has caught Peter's attention, certainly has no idea that she is not alone.

Yes,  _she_ — for it is a girl.

There is nothing out of the ordinary about her, at least not at first glace; she might be any of the girls you meet every day — or at least, any of the girls who would stay up late to watch pirate movies even though they're supposed to be asleep. Let's call her Joan.

Joan, of course, knows about Peter Pan. Most children do, and even the ones who say they don't are probably either lying or extremely forgetful. They grow up with stories about him, some of which are told to them by nostalgic parents or enthusiastic storytellers, and some of which are stories he tells them himself, when they lie in their beds and their souls linger in that brief moment between dream and reality.

They know him, and they love him dearly, like their closest friend. But as Peter does not hold with growing up, they see him less the older they get, and the stories slowly lose their power and ability to enchant.

Most of them end up forgetting that they ever loved him, and for them the stories never become more than just stories, and they grow up to lead sensible, adult lives. A few children, however, hold onto their love for Peter all their lives. Though they may forget that the love is for him, the love itself remains; so for them stories are never just stories. They still remember and feel the enchantment of the Neverland, and it's children like these who grow up to be artists, dreamers, storytellers and visionaries.

Joan herself is one of the lucky few who still know the stories and through whom the same stories (probably in a heavily-adapted form) may very well one day enchant and delight thousands of other people. But as of yet, she is watching, absorbed in the story that unfolds on-screen, and unaware that Peter Pan is closer to her than he has been in years.

You may already have guessed what happens next. It has happened before, and will happen again, as long as there are children who enjoy stories and a Peter Pan to listen in on them. Sooner or later, something will happen — Peter might lose his shadow, some of his enemies might intrude on the scene, a parent might enter and spot him — that forces him out in the open on order to meet the child in person.

This time, the moment comes when Silverwing, who has never seen a movie before, gets over-enthusiastic about the first swordfight among the pirates and forgets himself completely. Before Peter can even think of stopping him, the fairy is already halfway over by the television, his blue light flaring and pulsating in wild excitement as he yells out with his tiny, bell-like voice: " _The throat! Go for the throat, you nuts!"_

Joan, not at all prepared for being torn out of her movie experience by a fairy, jumps back in her seat and lets out a little shriek.

Peter is there in an instant, seeking to reel in the overeager little nuisance before he tries something silly like flying into the television screen and perhaps end up being part of the movie himself.

Joan recognizes him almost at once. "P-Peter Pan?"

Peter has grabbed Silverwing, holding him in one hand as he turns to look at Joan for the first time. For a moment, the pirates of the movie are forgotten. "Yes!"

"But —" Joan blinks and shakes her head, as if to clear it. "You're only a story."

 _"You're_ only a story!" Peter shoots back. As a counterargument it doesn't make much sense, but sometimes it's necessary to answer nonsense with nonsense.

Joan stares. For a moment she considers panicking, screaming loudly and run for her mother, but something stops her. Maybe it's the old love she once felt for Peter Pan, from when she still knew him and his stories in her dreams, that is rearing its head and telling her to calm down - or maybe she decides that this is a dream as well. Whatever the reason, she neither screams nor panics, just stares at the boy with a mix of awe and disbelief.

"Where did you come from?" she asks.

"Second to the right," says Peter, "and then straight on till morning." This, of course, is nonsense as well; it was originally just something he made up on the spot, many years ago, when another girl (rather more famous than Joan) asked him for his address. Since then, he's said it so many times that it has, in a way, become true, and now he automatically says it whenever someone asks.

This was not quite the answer Joan was aiming for, but as she doesn't quite know which answer exactly she was aiming for, all she can say is "I thought that was supposed to be 'second  _star_ to the right'?"

"Don't you think I know my own address?" says Peter indignantly, conveniently forgetting that the address isn't an address at all.

"Well, yes, of course, but —" Joan pauses. "Second  _what_ to the right?"

"What do you mean, second what to the right?"

"Well, if it's not the second _star_ , then what is it?"

"Moon," says Peter, who would rather make something up than admit that he doesn't know.

"Second  _moon_ to the right?"

"Aye!"

"But there's only one moon!"

"Makes it all the easier to find the right one!" Peter stands up a little straighter, proud of himself for having come up with such a crushing argument.

And a crushing argument it is, because Joan has no idea what to answer, and for a few seconds, there is silence between them.

"Oh, we're missing the best part!" Peter suddenly exclaims, letting go of Silverwing and then swats the fairy aside when he flies in front of the television and tries to block Peter's view. But unfortunately for them both, they have already missed the best part — and the best part was the end of the movie, so now Peter is presented only with a screen-full of rolling credits that he can't read anyway.

He lets out a short cry of frustration. "This is all your fault!" he chides the fairy. "Now we'll never know how it ended!"

He looks so upset that Joan immediately feels sorry for him. "I know how it ends," she offers.

"You do?!"

"I've seen the movie before. I can —" Joan hesitates for a moment, but only for a moment. "I can tell you, if you like!"

Peter nods eagerly, and sits down in mid-air with his legs crossed. This casual disregard for the laws of gravity surprises Joan, but she hides it. After all, she reasons, Peter Pan, is bound to be so full of happy thoughts and fairy dust that he doesn't have to be affected by gravity if he doesn't want to.

She giggles a bit as Silverving settles down on the boy's head, and a minor confrontration follows, with Peter trying to throw the overeager fairy off and Silverwing clutching on to Peter's hair, shouting in his tinkling-bell voice about earthquakes and hurricanes, before being flung through the air and having to use his wings to avoid a collision with the wall.

"Are you all right?" Joan asks between her giggles.

Peter turns to look at the fairy. "Silverwing," he says in a stern voice. "The lady has kindly agreed to tell us a story. Pay attention!" With his most charming smile, he turns back to Joan. "Please, continue."

And Joan does. She is a good storyteller, and now she discovers that Peter is a good audience; he listens with rapid attention and looks to get completely absorbed in the story (even as Silverwing gets bored and begins flying around the room to look at all the interesting things). He sits completely still in the air and follows the story with no comment as Joan tells him of pirates and high sea adventure, and it's as if he's imagining his own television screen in which the story takes place.

I hope you'll forgive me if I don't recount the details of the story that Joan is telling Peter. It really isn't very important (and besides, you may someday want to watch that pirate movie yourself, and then you might get annoyed at me for having spoiled the plot for you). The important part, and what you might want to take note of, is the slight but very real changes that are starting to come over Joan as she tells the story.

Unbeknownst to her, and really unbeknownst to Peter himself, she is falling under his spell. It's not a malicious, or even conscious, thing on Peter's behalf, but he tends to have a strange, almost magical, effect on children.

You may remember it from when you were a child; that wonderfully enchanting feeling that anything is possible, that there's fun and excitement everywhere, and that as long as you're with this wonderful and magical boy you don't have to do anything you don't want to. No boring school or homework, no absurd rules for behaving yourself, nothing that keeps you from adventure and excitement. A feeling that empties the head for responsibilities and commitments, and fills the heart with mischief and wanderlust; a desire to run away from home and go out on big adventures.

And Joan is starting to feel it. She doesn't question it, because few children do when they're falling under the spell of Pan, but she's starting to long for the Neverland, to experience the stories and not just read or tell them. And furthermore, as she watches the magical boy, the One-And-Only-Child, watch her and pay complete and utter attention to her and her story in a way nobody has done before, another longing is born inside her.

She doesn't have much chance to identify this longing, because now, as her story comes to an end, Peter leaps up in the air and spins around in joy and excitement.

"I knew it!" he shouts in glee. "I knew it would end that way! Thank you ever so much! Come on, Silverwing!" he calls to the fairy, who is darting about high under the ceiling.

"Wait!" Joan lifts her hand in a protesting gesture as she sees him turn towards the window. "Are you leaving already?!"

He turns back to her and blinks in genuine surprise; he hasn't even considered that she might object to him leaving. "I have to get back home and tell the other boys," he explains. "They like stories too!"

"But —" Joan hesitates, but once again, only for a moment. "Please stay! I — I know more stories! Lots and lots of them!"

He stops. Long, long ago, another little girl called him back to her with words very similar to these ones, and he can't resist them now any more than he could then. There is a sudden eager look in his eyes, one that might by some people be called  _greedy._  But just like the other little girl, Joan is less troubled by this than she perhaps should have been,

Because now Joan has started to tell  _herself_ a story. And unfortunately for her, the story she's telling herself just so happens to be the one story among all that can never be true.

And then he says them, the words that make her heart soar. "Come with me, then! To Neverland and the boys! You can tell us all the stories you know!"

As I said before, you probably know how this goes by now. Similar situations have played out time and time again, always with a different girl, and sometimes even with boys. He reaches out to take her hand, and she lets him, even as the fairy dust from the hovering Silverwing lightly falls on her, and she is filled up with such joy that she without even noticing lifts off the floor and rises up in the air. 

She doesn't think about her parents and the grief it will cause them to find her gone without a trace. Joan isn't a particularly selfish or cruel child, but for the moment she's forgotten all about her family and friends, people who love her and will miss her. All she can think about is how she's flying, how Peter is holding her hand.

"You really want me to come?" she says in a near-whisper as she rises up towards the ceiling.

"Of course I do!" His voice is sincere.

"Will you show me Neverland?"

"I'll show it all to you! The lagoons, the animals, the fairies and the mermaids..."

"And the pirates?"

"Especially the pirates!"

"Oh!" she gasps, partly out of excitement and partly because she's just bumped her head on the ceiling. (Flying takes a bit of practice, especially if you want to avoid bumping into things.) "Yes! Of course I'll come with you!"

She is already lost. The story has her in its clutches and isn't about to let go.

Have you guessed what this story is yet?

It's very simple. It's the same story that so many girls (and some boys) have told over the years, most often to themselves, but sometimes to others as well. The story that has caused so much heartache and tragedy by not being true. Because Peter is so good at unwittingly making you believe that it might be true,  _this_ time.

The story that  _this_ time, Peter has, or will, genuinely come to care for someone in a deeper way, that he will open his eyes and his heart to the joys and mysteries of having that special someone in his life to share everything with.

Now, I'll admit that this is, or at least can be, a beautiful story — but it is a lie. It's the one story that can never be true, because it so fundamentally goes against everything Peter Pan is about. To open your heart to such love, to risk the pains and the delights, the joy and the despair of loving someone... that is the same as growing up. And Peter Pan does not grow up.

Peter Pan  _is_ childhood, pure and simple. Cheerful, innocent and heartless, he is everything about childhood that's untempered by adult worries, cynicism, or responsibilities. Every day a new adventure, a new game, a new song in his soul. Every day the world is open to him with its wonders, its terrors and its possibilities.

But eternal childhood comes with a price, a price that Peter has paid and keeps paying to this day. He can never grow, or change. He can never know love, or a family. That is his greatest triumph, and it is also his greatest tragedy. (Occasionally, when the mood strikes him, he'll remember the names "Maimie" or "Wendy," the two girls who might have done the impossible and made the untrue story true, but he always forgets them again.)

I wish we could tell Joan this, as she follows Peter out the window and gets ready to fly away with him.

I wish we could warn her, tell her that anyone who seeks anything more than adventure or perhaps an amiable companion and occasional partner-in-arms in Peter Pan, is going to be bitterly disappointed.

But even if we could tell her this, she'd never believe us. She's certain that  _she'll_  be different, that  _she'll_  be the one. Maybe it's the strange effect Peter has on children that is spurring it on, or maybe the story is just that seductive, or that desperate to become true - but Joan completely and utterly believes it.

Like so many girls (and some boys) before her, she's going to have to learn the hard way.

Perhaps, we can optimistically tell ourselves, she won't have such a hard time of it. The Neverland is certainly a place where she'll find adventure and fun. She'll find comradeship and acceptance with the other Lost Boys and Girls, and can have her own adventures.

When she leaves the Neverland again, as all children except one eventually do, she might have new and wonderful stories to share with the world.

But how heartbreaking it will be for her, that moment when she discovers the truth - or rather, the untruth. I just hope she can deal with the heartbreak better than some of the other girls. It's really all rather sad.

 

 

* * *

**THE END**

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not quite sure where I even wanted to go with this... Well, okay, maybe it is a slight send-up of all the Peter Pan fanfics where a new girl falls in love with Peter and he goes against everything he stands for by not only loving her back but growing up for her.
> 
> (Wonder how many flames I'll get for this story?)
> 
> In case you were wondering: No, there won't be a sequel, more chapters or anything like that. I reckon this fic is all I had to say on the subject of Peter Pan.


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